


Completion

by Patchcat



Series: Sarcasm and Sass [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Established Relationship, M/M, Mate bonds, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 02:16:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1587971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patchcat/pseuds/Patchcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles stares deep into Derek’s eyes, considering.  This was big...and it was everything he had wanted for years.  “Yes,” he says finally.  “Finish it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Completion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Mating Games, Round 1, Challenge 4
> 
> Additional warning: There is mention of an unintentionally, non-consensually initiated mate bond.

Stiles sighs contentedly as he slowly sinks down onto Derek’s cock. It’s been a few days since they were able to do this, and he’s not ashamed to say that he’s missed it. Derek had too, if the speed and savagery with which they had lost their clothing and fallen into bed was any indication. Hell, they hadn’t even stopped to turn on the lights. He settles firmly in Derek’s lap and looks down with a crooked smile.

Gazing through his lashes at his boyfriend, his smile slips toward a frown. Derek’s eyes are a little unfocused, his gaze centered somewhere over Stiles’ shoulder, and it’s obvious that Stiles does not have his full and undivided attention. That just won’t do at all. With an irritated huff, Stiles plants his hands on Derek’s chest, rises up, and slams himself back down, hard enough to bruise.

Derek gasped and cried out, arching up into him to relieve the strain. “Stiles! What the fuck was that for?” Derek growls, his gaze finally sharpening.

“Well, it didn’t seem like me riding your dick was enough to keep your attention,” Stiles answers petulantly, leaning forward to catch Derek’s lips in a wet, messy kiss. Derek sighs into it, but Stiles can tell he’s not giving it his all. Damn it.

Beneath him, Derek lays flat and near motionless, letting Stiles bounce on him a few times and not really reacting at all. Sitting up with a frustrated sigh, Stiles regards Derek for a few seconds before he starts to move off his boyfriend. Doesn’t look like it’s happening tonight, damn it. 

Stiles can’t completely hide his disappointment and doesn’t even try to smooth out the jerkiness of his movements. It had been a long week full of supernatural crap, and all Stiles wanted was some quality time with his favorite grumpy werewolf. Apparently that was too much to ask of the universe.

Derek’s hands on his hips tighten and hold him still, and his brow wrinkles in confusion. “Where are you going?” 

“You don’t seem all that into it tonight,” Stiles says, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s like you’re somewhere else completely.”

Derek stares, dumbfounded, and gestures towards the rock hard cock Stiles is currently _sitting on_. “I beg to differ.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and drops his hands to his sides. “Okay, yeah. I’ll give you that one.” He rolls his hips and watches Derek’s eyelids flutter when he moans. “But you’re, like, a million miles away, dude. Don’t even act like you want to be doing this. What gives?”

Derek sighs and flexes his hands on Stiles’ hips, watching as he drags one up Stiles’ side and across his chest to rest above his heart. “I was thinking...”

“Yeah. Got that. What I don’t get is _why_ when I’m _riding your dick_!” Putting action to words, Stiles rolls his hips and leans back on his hands, driving Derek deep. They both gasp and moan with the movement. 

“S-Stiles,” Derek pants. “I want...” His voice trails off on a drawn out moan as Stiles repositions himself, leaning forward and licking a broad stripe over the scar sitting directly over Derek’s heart. 

Derek pants, and he buries his hand in Stiles’ hair, holding him there. “That, Stiles. I want to finish...”

Stiles jerks up and freezes, staring wide-eyed. “That” is the half formed mating bond Stiles inadvertently initiated months ago and the only wound on his body that his freaking werewolf physiology didn’t completely heal. “That” is the only mark Stiles has ever left on Derek’s body.

They had been dating for almost a year when it happened, but had just started having sex. Derek hadn’t even considered that it might be a possibility, even given Stiles’ love of biting. The younger man hadn’t known what it meant to bite deep enough to draw blood while releasing deep within his werewolf lover. Derek had been so surprised, he’d pushed Stiles off of him when he felt the first stirrings, wild-eyed and completely unready. 

Stiles had been pretty upset when Derek wouldn’t talk to him for the better part of a week. He’d finally had to beard the beast in his lair and demand answers. It had been a very emotional and awkward conversation for both of them, but once Derek actually _explained_ instead of just taking off, including that the bond required a reciprocating bite and he wasn’t sure he could do it without turning him, Stiles was very understanding -- albeit grumbly about “stupid werewolf rituals” and “kinky mystical crap” -- leaving the decision of completing the bond entirely up to Derek. 

They hadn’t spoken of it again. 

They both feel the tattered ends of the bond, though, like a ragged edge of an open wound trying desperately to knit itself back together. Especially in times of high stress or when one or the other is threatened. Or late at night, when they’re wrapped around each other, deep in that intimacy that close couples share.

Stiles takes a deep breath and looks closely at Derek. “Are you sure?” he whispers, a hopeful smile trembling at the corner of his mouth. “You really --”

“Stiles!” Derek growls, his eyes exasperated and fond -- a very familiar combination. “Yes! God knows why, but I am absolutely, 100% positive that I want to bind myself to you for the rest of our lives.” 

“You’re sure you won’t turn me?” Stiles asks seriously. “Because you know I still don’t want that.”

Derek face softens and he strokes his knuckles down Stiles’ cheek. “I’m sure. I wouldn’t do anything that would change what you are. Wouldn’t want to. And you know the bite is all about intent.”

Stiles stares deep into Derek’s eyes, considering. This was big...and it was everything he had wanted for years. “Yes,” he says finally. “Finish it.”

Derek’s lips curve in a predatory smile; and he pulls Stiles down, crushing their mouths together. With a flick of his tongue, he pries Stiles’ mouth open, delving deep and wraps his legs around Stiles’ waist and _twists_ , flipping them over.

Driving into his soon-to-be-mate’s welcoming warmth, he tangles his hand in Stiles’ hair and pulls his head to the side, baring his neck. Stiles moans turn to deep, loud cries as Derek sets a brutal rhythm and sucks bruises into his neck. 

Were he a more sensitive man, Stiles would be upset at the speed and harshness of Derek’s thrusts. He would have insisted that this moment be slow and gentle so that it could be savored. But he’s not, and Derek’s deep, hard strokes are perfect. 

Stiles swallows Derek’s moans as he pounds into him, arching his back and driving Derek as deep as he can. His hands flutter frantically across Derek’s back, and he revels in the bunch and stretch of the muscles there. He reaches back and glides his dry finger down Derek’s ass, teasing at his hole.

Derek gasps and rears back, his eyes a deep, dark red as they flash in the twilight gloom of the bedroom. Stiles can feel the pin-prick sting of claws as they caress the skin of his hips, and he throws his head back and moans. Derek falls forward, catching himself to cage Stiles with his arms, and starts to trail hard, bruising kisses down his neck and across his collarbones. He gasps and moans when he feels the sting of Derek’s fangs as they scrape against his skin. 

Derek’s rhythm starts to falter, and he reaches down between them to wrap his hand around Stiles’ dick, jerking it just this side of too hard as he buries himself deep and speeds his hips. 

“Close,” Stiles moans, arching his back and driving himself down hard onto Derek’s cock. “So close.”

Derek hums in agreement and sets his teeth to Stiles’ chest, right above his heart. Stiles grazes his finger over Derek’s hole and his orgasm rips through him. With a snarling moan, he bites deep, drawing blood and completing their bond. Stiles wails as he spurts across his belly and Derek’s hand, and then gasps as love and contentment and possessiveness engulf him. 

His laughter is full of joy as he feels the the jagged edges of mate bond knit together into a smooth, flowing whole. He can see it reflected in Derek’s eyes and revels in the feelings as they flow between them, warm and free and easy.


End file.
